


Dancing Men

by SCFrankles



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SCFrankles/pseuds/SCFrankles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sherlock strode into the living room, wearing a kilt. It revealed rather a lot of thigh—the effect being more Mary Quant than Rob Roy. </i>
</p>
<p><i>John glanced up briefly from his laptop. “You’ve got mine on,” he said.</i><br/> </p>
<p>Scottish country dancing has no place for mavericks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing Men

**Author's Note:**

> A 221B - a story in 221 words, final word beginning with "b". Holmes and Watson created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; Sherlock and John property of Moffat and Gatiss, and the BBC.
> 
> 221B form invented by [KCScribbler](http://kcscribbler.livejournal.com/) ([KCS](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4162281/1/221B)).
> 
> * * *

Sherlock strode into the living room, wearing a kilt. It revealed rather a lot of thigh—the effect being more Mary Quant than Rob Roy. 

John glanced up briefly from his laptop. “You’ve got mine on,” he said.

“The hire company must have mixed up the labels,” said Sherlock, glaring at his hemline.

John snickered. 

“Are you going to behave tonight?” he asked, as he put his laptop aside. “Scottish country dancing has no place for mavericks. You’ll have to work as part of a team.”

Sherlock’s lips twitched, ever so slightly.

 

Mrs Hudson was a nifty little mover, despite the hip.

“Thanks for standing in,” she said. “Larry and Ken have been _arrested.”_

Sherlock smiled. “Anything for you.”

“Why are we actually here?” said John after Mrs Hudson had moved away.

“To pass on smugglers’ secret messages through the medium of dance steps,” said Sherlock.

“Of course,” said John.

 

John grinned to himself as Sherlock led the troupe of increasingly bewildered dancers through a subtly altered version of _The Bees of Maggieknockater_. When it was over, the onlookers applauded politely and an elderly woman discreetly made her exit.

“Right,” said Sherlock. “That’s the receiver directed into the waiting arms of the police.”

“So what now?” asked John. 

“I think,” said Sherlock, straightening his kilt, “we’ve earned ourselves some _uisge beatha.”_


End file.
